


Pink!

by CopperContessa_13



Category: Beetlejuice - Perfect/Brown & King
Genre: Adult Content, Alcohol, Angst, Bisexual Female Character, Bisexuality, Cunnilingus, Drama, Drinking, Eventual Happy Ending, Exes, Explicit Language, F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff, Friendship/Love, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Party, Smut, Sneaking Around, Tattoos, Teasing, Underwear Kink, Vaginal Fingering, Vibrators, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-07-02
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:15:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 18,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22707592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CopperContessa_13/pseuds/CopperContessa_13
Summary: After six breather years away from the house on the hill, Beetlejuice returns to find it overrun by coeds. Lydia allows him to stay, but with rules. Things get more interesting when Beck, one of the housemates, reveals she can see him. Following a saucy, sordid affair, Beetlejuice finds himself lingering around Beck more and more. But will her affection last? And why does it seem to bother Lydia so much?
Relationships: Beetlejuice & Lydia Deetz, Beetlejuice (Beetlejuice)/Original Character(s), Beetlejuice (Beetlejuice)/Reader, Beetlejuice/Originial Female Character(s)
Comments: 16
Kudos: 62





	1. The Setup

Energy in the Victorian house on the hill was high as 20-somethings laughed at everything and chugged cheap beer. Speakers were only set up in the living room, but the raised bass made the whole house jump. A thin mist of condensation hung in the air. Heavy petting was rampant and drinks flowed freely. Dimmed lighting gave the house a kind of an “Eyes Wide Shut” feel, but it was just sweaty, sloppy, young fun.

Beetlejuice fucking hated it.

Usually he liked being a voyeur to the hedonism that events like this brought, but tonight he was annoyed. The ghost with the most could only stand sitting out on all the fun for so long. He craved attention and was now starting to starve for it.

So much had changed in the barely six breather years he was away. Chuck and Delilah had turned the place into a rental for college students, all of the rooms had been redecorated by people with much worse taste (needs stripes!) and— of course— Lydia had grown up. He sat on the kitchen counter and watched her carry on conversation with some rando. Still short, still draped in dark colors, but clearly more comfortable with herself. He noticed she laughed more, at least. And the tattoos on her thigh and arms told him she’d also found a way to express herself.

Beetlejuice bounced his leg and fidgeted with his pants, fighting the urge to make a scene. Locking eye contact with Lydia for a moment, he pouted and pleaded with his eyes for her to let him do something (anything!) to get a rise out of someone. She just gave a small head shake of disapproval. Beetlejuice dramatically crossed his arms and sulked. Lydia giggled, but he couldn’t tell if it was at him.

She was the only one willing to give him a chance after it all happened, but she had her rules. No coercing a mortal to summon him, namely. It took every ounce of willpower he had not to cross her. What good was being back if he can’t be seen? What good was company if you feel alone? 

The Maitlands were nowhere to be seen since his reappearance— something that obviously bugged Lydia. They had to be around somewhere, but neither one could figure out where they hid. A gnawing sensation in his barely-there conscience reminded him it was his fault that things were this way. He brushed it off. It wasn’t like she hadn’t made living friends, he thought watching people squirm past each other as they tried to move room to room.

Hopping off the counter, he slunk away, corporeal enough that dragging his hand on the counter knocked a nondescript bottle onto the floor. He was not corporeal enough, however, for anyone to call him (specifically) out on his party foul. Through the bumping music and carrying on, no one even noticed it shatter on the floor. They just walked through the shit.

Woe is Beej.

He liked to mope on the roof when he was moody. Sitting with his knees pulled against his chest, Beetlejuice took a dramatic breath he didn’t need to and looked up at the moonless sky. 

“Hey asshole, you owe me a new bottle of cognac,” a voice quipped from behind him.

“Hey now, that’s Mr. Asshole to y—“ His words died in his mouth as realization hit him square in the face. 

That’s not Lydia’s voice.

Twisting his head 180 degrees, he recognized the woman behind him as one of Lydia’s roommates. Her relaxed body posture was juxtaposed against a wide-eyed, eyebrow-knitted expression. Seems as if she was cool about the situation before seeing his inhuman reflexes.

“You’ve seriously got to be fucking with me right now,” Beetlejuice said, eyes narrowing. “Beck! Have you been able to see me this whole damn time?”

She looked at him, eyebrows raised in disbelief. It felt so weird to hear him address her.

Beetlejuice’s ceaselessly annoying antics forced Lydia to spend more time out of the house. He learned to adapt, though. Spooking the housemates he didn’t like and spying on the ones he did was a favorite pastime. He’d hang around their shoulders and entertain himself with whatever they were doing on their phones. He liked TikTok compilations a lot. Also porn.

Out of everyone, Beck was the least fun. She never paid attention to any of his pranks or complained much when her underwear went missing. She never even downloaded TikTok. Not even ironically! All this time he thought she was lame. She was probably laying low on purpose, he realized. 

She averted her eyes and shifted her posture, clearly uncomfortable. 

“Ehh… Could you put your head back on right first?”

Challenged, Beetlejuice rose up on all fours to crab walk towards the window. He made a show of it, grossly twisting all of his limbs as he moved towards her. She groaned. Untwisting himself, he perched one arm on the windowsill and wiggled his eyebrows suggestively at her.

“Wait until you see what my dick can do,” he smirked.

Beck tried to roll her eyes and look unfazed, but Beetlejuice caught a faint blush creep up her neck. 

Beck was something to look at when the house hosted these ragers. Tonight was no different. Even if he wasn’t much in the mood, Beetlejuice most definitely noticed the way she’d move in her tight dresses and skimpy tops. Ah, college.

“Don’t be weird. You owe me liquor,” she said pointedly as he crawled back into the room. 

“Beck, babe,” Beetlejuice said with a sigh. “I can’t do cognac, but I bet I can do you one better. Bet you’ve never had home brew from the Netherworld.”

She quirked an amused eyebrow but said nothing. 

“Think about it! You’ll be able to out-snob all of your other wino friends,” he mused.

“We’re amateur cicerones!”

Beetlejuice just laughed. Beck crossed her arms across as she considered his offer. He couldn’t help but stare at her boobs as they peaked ever-so-slightly more from the motion. Finally, she let out a sigh and rolled her eyes.

“We are pretty snobby…”

Beetlejuice just chuckled and gave her a mischievous smile before disappearing.

⁂

He reappeared minutes later gripping two six packs of unmarked glass bottles. Beck had slipped into something more comfortable— that is to say, a far cry from her earlier getup. Beetlejuice’s demeanor visibly deflated when he noticed her skimpier attire was traded out for a more modest hoodie and sweatpants.

“Aren’t you going to be hot in that?”

“Not up here. Fuck going back downstairs,” she snorted.

“Wow,” Beetlejuice deadpanned. “Ditching a party to drink alone. So hardcore.”

“Well I don’t have to drink alone. Do I…?” She gave him an expectant look. 

“Do you?!” he squealed. In a second, he’d dropped the booze on her desk, grabbed one for himself and jumped on her bed. “No, babe, you don’t.”

Beck gave a small chuckle and grabbed a bottle for herself. Through the tinted glass, she couldn’t tell much about the lukewarm liquid other than it was more viscous than what she was used to drinking. Aside from a lingering sweet scent, the dark substance gave no other indication of what it was. She took a sip.

“In the Netherworld, we call that ’Blood,’” Beetlejuice said nonchalantly. He looked up after a beat to see her looking at him wide-eyed with a mouthful of the stuff. “But it’s like. Not actually blood.”

With the same intense stare, Beck finally swallowed. 

“Not human blood, at least.”

She looked like she was going to vomit before a barking laugh gave away his ruse. Her posture eased. 

“Babe, you make this too easy!”

In between conversation, they drank. Beck sat at the foot of the bed while Beetlejuice laid back into her pillows. A look on her face gave away her mild discontent about his stench being on her things, so he made sure to get extra cozy. He kicked off his shoes and belched before taking a swig.

“You’re a terrible houseguest,” she groaned.

“You’re a terrible host! You could see me this whole time and said nothing!?”

Beck shrugged.

“Lydia told me it would be better that way.”

He shrunk a little bit hearing those words. Beck felt a little shocked, seeing his expression drop. It was the first time she had noticed him show anything aside from lust and snark. She didn’t know what to say.

“I-It’s not like I asked for this. I don’t know why I can see you. Lydia said strange and unusual people keep strange and unusual company,” Beck finally said.

“That’s weird,” Beetlejuice said. “Usually it means you’re dying.”

She sharply caught her breath in shock.

“Seriously, Beck! Too easy. Of course you’re dying. We all die. Sometimes more than once.”

“Comforting.”

A light, effervescent feeling rose in the pit of her stomach and began to spread to her limbs. Beck looked at her bottle and saw it was only about halfway gone. How the hell was she already starting to feel tipsy?

“Potent, right?”

“I swear to god, if you put something in here, Lydia is just a text away,” Beck warned, leaning over to jab a finger squarely into his chest. “And she still has that book that can tell how to banish you.”

Beetlejuice stared at Beck’s finger than back her, unimpressed. He grabbed it, but only to move it away. She tried to seem undeterred, but brief terror in her eyes betrayed her.

“Bold of you to threaten a demon, Beck,” he laughed. “But you have nothing to worry about. I’m not that kind of monster.”

A bit more relaxed, she got up to grab two more of the unmarked bottles before easing back onto the bed. Passing one to him, she decided to lay out at the top of the bed this time. She looked at him while resting her head on her hand. Even baggy sweatpants couldn’t hide the curve of her thick thighs and rockin’ ass, he thought.

A familiar, unwelcome tightness in his pants made him switch his position. Beetlejuice tried to distract himself.

“The fuck kind of a name is Beck anyway?”

She cracked open her second drink, seemingly not thinking anything of Beetlejuice’s decision to sit cross-legged with a pillow on his lap.

“It’s short for Bexley.”

“…Okay, well, what the fuck kind of a name is Bexley??”

“Well what the fuck kind of a name is Beetlejuice?” She shot back.

“Huh?” He asked, holding a hand to his ear.

“Beetlejuice!”

“Run that by me one more time, baby. You mumble.”

He thought maybe she didn’t know how summoning worked, but she caught on. Beck giggled and flopped onto her back. Ever clingy, Beetlejuice was too enamored with the moment to worry about being caught breaking Lydia’s rules. A goofy smile slipped on his face watching her. 

“Fuck you,” she said through a laugh.

“Yes, please.”

Those words caught her off guard. She didn’t respond, just broke eye contact as a blush lit up her face. Beetlejuice couldn’t help but drink her in.

“Not sure why you’d care, but Bexley is a family name,” She said as soberly as she could. The drink was really settling into her veins now. “At one point, it was my great great great grandmothers maiden name. She got married and had no other siblings to pass it on. So every generation since then has had a ‘Bexley.’ Unless you’re a stupid kid like me who couldn’t pronounce the whole thing. So, Beck it is.”

He reflected thoughtfully on what she said for a moment.

“My first name is Lawrence!” he blurted.

There was nothing funny about it, but Beck laughed anyway. Mostly at his enthusiasm. It felt infectious. “Do you always get so giggly when you drink?” He asked.

“Lawrence,” she tried the name out in her mouth. “Laaaaawrence. Lawrence.”

She rolled over and looked up at him thoughtfully. Cautiously, she reached up and touched his forehead. A streak of pink exploded at the roots above where her touch landed.

“I always liked how your hair turns colors,” she said thoughtfully. “I don’t think I’ve seen light pink before, though. Do they all mean something?”

“Yeah! Pink means you give me a boner, Bexley.” He blurted out. He reached under the pillow on his lap to pull out an actual bone. “It’s a fibula this time!” They both doubled over in drunken laughter. Neither could help it. After a minute, Beck placed a hand on his shoulder for balance and propped herself up to look him in the eye. His mouth opened partially in shock, recognizing the look she was giving him. 

“You make me wet, Lawrence,” she said while tipping the rest of her second drink into her mouth. She did a sloppy job of it, droplets running off the side. Without thinking, Beetlejuice grasped her sides and pulled in to lap them up. He squeezed the flesh under her hoodie in a hard and needy way. Beck moaned and threw her head back.

Like instinct, her hands tangled in his hair and urged him to move further down. She gasped when he bit her neck, hungry to feel her under him. It was when she ran a hand down his torso towards the pillow on his lap that he remembered himself. Beetlejuice backed off, suddenly aware that he felt like he was being watched. 

It took everything in him to push her off and stand up. He couldn’t even manage words, just held up his hands and backed away. 

“Lawrence, what the fuck?” Beck said.

But he was already gone. 

⁂  
The house was a deadzone when he came back. The crowd was gone, leaving a huge pile of cans in their wake. There was no vomit this time, so they probably figured the mess could wait. It just made him feel more at home, anyway. He floated up the stairs. After making sure Lydia was safely in bed, Beetlejuice decided to check on Beck. 

Her snores were muffled by the pillows she buried her head in. The way she was splayed out on the mattress was endearing, but the way her boobs nearly hung out of her bunched up hoodie made him hard again. Beck had left her pants on the floor, showing off a pretty pink thong. Spank bank filled, he was about to leave when she sleepily called out. 

“Lawrence?” She said dazedly, raising her head. It killed him how innocent she sounded saying it. Fumbling with his jacket, he stayed quiet while he hesitated to answer. She called again, still.

“I know you’re here. I can smell you.”

He rolled his eyes.

“Beck,” he said “Do you remember what happened?”

“What? Of course,” she scoffed, sitting up to look at him. “I want more of that ‘blood.’ Double the high and none of the hangover. Now come lay down.”

Well, she did ask. He shrugged out of his jacket, stripping to only to his button-down and a ratty pair of briefs. Socks on, of course. He was a gentleman. 

Beck scooted aside and haphazardly covered herself with a blanket. A passing look in her eye made him think she knew exactly what she was doing. He had so many questions, but now wasn’t the time. Her heavy lidded eyes let him know she was desperate to sleep. Beck reached out to lightly touch a spot of moss on his cheek. She smiled.

“What?” Beetlejuice said.

“I was wondering if the moss turns colors too.”

Her words made him melt. Beetlejuice knew he’d eventually have to answer to Lydia for sneaking around with her roommate, but it was worth it. For now, he was happy to hold Beck close and save the tougher conversations for morning. 

“Hey, Beck?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I be the little spoon?”

“Yeah.”


	2. The Buzzkill Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the first half, Beck and Beetlejuice go on an interesting date to one of his favorite haunts. In the second, Beck lets on that she's not as oblivious to his voyeurism.
> 
> Part fluff, part sexy stuff.
> 
> Bzzzzz.

Beck didn’t know why, but first date jitters always got the worst of her. 

It didn’t matter how well she’d gotten to know them beforehand, something in her mind always seemed to snap whenever the word “date” came up. Usually cool and charismatic, she’d been a jumpy mess since she started getting ready. Beck took in a deep breath to calm her nerves and checked her phone. Two minutes until he was supposed to arrive.

She was a little nervous when BJ, her date, told her he wanted to take her to a music club after dinner. She felt a headache coming on just by imagining trying to hold a conversation over loud music. Glancing at the venue now, though, the place looked a lot sleepier than she’d expected.

It looked like the building Downtown Winter River forgot. Though its aging facade implied it had to have been there longer than anything else around it, the club somehow still looked like it had been lazily shoved between two other businesses. The windows were warped, paint flaked off in chunks and the roof was missing some tiles. What the aging stucco building lacked in appearance, however, it seemed to make up for in charm. Beck liked the red and green striped awning over its front entrance.

She caught a glimpse of her reflection in a nearby storefront and grimaced. Stonewashed jeans, combat boots and a cold shoulder top felt right when she was getting ready. Now, she felt silly for not looking into the venue more. He’d described the place as “casual,” but the last three people she had seen walk in were wearing suits. 

Fuck. 

Suddenly, a wave of self-consciousness swept over her. Beck looked closer at her reflection, turning side to side to see herself at every angle. Was she too chubby to wear such a form-fitting top? Were her shoes too worn? Did her braid make her look frumpy? It’s one thing to underdress, it’s another thing to not do it well. 

Home wasn’t too far off. She had half a mind to go back and change, but a hand on her shoulder signaled it was too late for that. With slight hesitation, she turned around to see her date. He had wild green hair, scruff and was dressed... in a striped suit. 

Fuuuck!

“BJ, I am so sorry,” Beck said nervously. “I didn’t know there was a dress code. If you give me a minute I can go home and change.”

“Change? I don’t think so, babes. Not unless you let me watch," he winked.

Beck blushed at the way he eyed her up and down so blatantly. It was a little forward, but she liked the attention. And a good thing, too, because, oh boy, was he forward.

The way he was flagrantly stared at her chest should have made her feel dirty. The way his hand “accidentally” brushed her ass repeatedly as they walked to their dinner spot next door should have made her go home right there. If it was anyone else that pulled her onto their lap right after getting seated in the club, she would have punched them on the spot. But even though it was their first date, his touch starved antics didn’t make her nervous.

It was the tender moments that made her squirm. 

The air in the club hung thick with the scent of stale tobacco smoke and mildew. Whether she was getting a whiff of the grungy-looking patrons at nearby tables or the venue itself (or her date???), she wasn’t sure. The place was just as rough as it was on the outside. The chipped and stained linoleum floor was accented by the water damaged popcorn ceiling. Badly sun faded curtains were pushed aside, allowing some light from the evening sky to show through and reflect off the dust particles floating in the air. However, Beck didn’t mind being somewhere so lived-in. She imagined it was the home to a fraternal order at some point before whatever Winter River yuppies took over and turned it into a spot for live jazz music.

The thrum of a bass and gentle crooning of a trumpet on the stage at the front of the room solidified the thought. She imagined old white men laughing with each other as they shared racy stories about their long-gone primes. It both humbled Beck and made her feel anxious, thinking about how fleeting time is.

BJ had reserved a table for them in the back of the room. After she wiggled off his lap, they ordered drinks and watched people dance in a cleared out area at the front.

“So what did you want to be when you grew up?” he asked after stealing a sip of her mint julep. 

Beck recalled immediately, but still lingering nerves made her almost unwilling to give an honest answer. She studied him for a moment as he ruffled a gruff hand through his hair and flicked away a stray bug. It was disgusting, but she gave a small smile anyway.

Clearly he’s not the type to judge, she thought. 

“The Goblin Queen,” Beck said with a resolved sigh. He quirked an eyebrow. “Like from Labyrinth. The Jim Henson movie? With the girl and the puppets.”

“Oh! Yeah, I’ve heard of that one.”

Doubtful. 

“Kids are dumb,” she continued. “Dumb kid me wanted to marry this character called the Goblin King, right? I liked to pretend we’d rule this fantasy world together, have big parties and see weird creatures. I liked stuff like that.”

“That’s not dumb,” he said. 

Flushed, Beck gulped down the rest of her drink. BJ smirked at the way her face twisted from the sting bourbon brings, but said nothing.

“Well what about you?” She asked a bit more accusatory than she meant.

“That’s too far back for me to remember,” BJ said. “In the mid-‘20s I wanted to be a mobster, though. Probably why I liked this place so much. But pinstripe suits never really did it for me.” He held up his hands like he was handling a machine gun and made firing noises with his mouth.

“You talk about it like you were there,” she laughed.

“I was, babes. Been around for millennia.”

Eyebrows knitted, she shot a glance at him.

“You were pretty close earlier, when you thought of it as a ‘fraternal order.’ It was definitely a boys club— if you know what I mean— but we just called it a ‘speakeasy,’” BJ said nonchalantly.

Did he just casually imply he could read her fucking mind? Beck was suddenly alarmed by so many things all at once.

The crowd wasn’t full of grungy yuppies, she realized. It was full of people that looked just as decrepit as him. Pasty skin, unkempt clothing that was popular decades before and matted hair. She quelled a scream when she noticed some had bloody, slit necks and bullet holes peeking out from under fedora hats. She stood up slightly from her chair, desperately checking for signs of another living being.

Come to think of it, she couldn’t remember how she set up this date. Did they meet online? Through a mutual friend? Beck stood up fully, now, feverishly looking for an exit out of the building. She needed fresh air. Was she dead? Did he take her to the underworld? Why did the band have green hair and the same black and white striped suit as BJ? Were they clones or something??

“Don’t sweat the details, Bexley,” he whispered calmly but sternly. Gently, BJ pulled her back into her seat. After a few deep breaths, she cautiously resolved that she was in no immediate danger. Even if the other patrons looked dead, they didn’t seem very interested in her.

“This is all just a conjuring, but I wanted to show you what it’s like.”

Beck was ready to chastise him, but her words faded when she finally turned to him again. His face was only inches away from her own. His eyes pleaded with her.

“Please don’t be mad,” BJ said.

Her heart rate picked up again as he lifted her chin to be more even with his own. She stared into his eyes for another moment before following his lead. Beck leaned forward, brushing her lips against his. He wrapped a protective arm around her. 

When he tried to pull her in deeper, she broke from the kiss with a gasp. She sighed in frustration. Unwilling to give him another gentle kiss but also unwilling to leave him, she rested her head against his chest. She could imagine the smirk on his face as a chuckle vibrated through him.

They didn’t say another word to each other, but she felt at ease. 

⁂

Waking up, it took a minute for Beck to clear her head of its sleepy haze. She sat up on her elbows, trying to process what she’d just dreamed. Settling eyes on Beetlejuice wrapped up in the fetal position under her sheets, though, made it all make sense. She tried to bite back a smile but couldn’t.

A knowing pair of eyes peaked up at her from under a pile of blankets he’d stolen for himself during the night.

“Did you sleep well, Beck?” he asked. His mouth was obscured, but the tone of his voice implied that those blankets were covering a shit eating grin. 

“I, uh, I did actually,” she paused, thinking about it for a moment. “Did you have anything to do with that?”

“Wish I could say, but I don’t kiss and tell,” he teased back.

“I would’ve thought you’d be a bit more adventurous than a jazz club and the world’s most innocent peck on the lips,” Beck scoffed. He didn’t miss how she readjusted her hips so the broad part of her thong peaked out at him.

No more games, he thought.

In an inhuman second, Beetlejuice was on top of her. A needy hand reached up her hoodie to grab her breast, but any verbal reaction she had was cut short when he hungrily pressed his lips against hers. She was pleased that he only tasted mildly of rot. His touch was warm, but she suspected that was because he’d spent the better part of seven hours bundled in her bed sheets. 

Feeling Beck gasp into his mouth as he manipulated her nipple with his thumb was intoxicating. Fixated on the feeling of her in his hand, he was surprised when she was the one to force her tongue into his mouth. Eagerly, he chased it back with his own. He only broke the kiss for a second to moan at the sensation of Beck gripping his hair. 

Not wanting to crush her, otherworldly powers supported his weight while he used his free hand to sloppily tug away any sheets that were still in his way. Beetlejuice opened his eyes for a minute to peek. Her bare thighs were as gorgeous up close as they were when he spied on her.

Beetlejuice plunged a needy hand between the fleshy part of her closed legs and batted it back and forth. A surprised noise escaped her lips as she complied, opening them. She shuttered as the pads of two fingers were placed squarely against the middle of her panties. 

He stopped to sear the image of her heaving body in his brain forever. The sound of Beck’s panting seemed to fill the whole room. He noticed she sunk her hips into the bed, seemingly preparing for him to rip off the fabric and plow his digits into her.

“Getting a little ahead of yourself, huh?” Beetlejuice smirked. 

Her eyes popped open, loathing evident in her look as he withdrew his body from her. She was about to protest when she felt his skin brush against the side of her face.

“I don’t really do ‘nice and sensitive,’ baby. So when I do, don’t be ungrateful,” he said in a low whisper. His tongue flicked against her earlobe once. Beetlejuice laughed at the sharp gasp elicited. “Not unless you’re ready for the consequences.”

Beck’s mouth opened slightly as Beetlejuice backed away from her, but no words came out. His hair blazed magenta, a color she’d associated with his arousal. Red streaked in it, too, but she wasn’t sure why he was upset. He moved off the bed and stood on the floor, adjusting himself through his pants as he did.

What an asshole to get her that riled up and then do nothing about it, she thought.

“I can’t handle this,” Beck groaned as she retrieved a bullet vibrator from her bedside drawer. “Two nights in a row you’ve blatantly started something and refused to finish it. Do I need to do everything myself?!”

“What do you mean by ‘blatantly’ start something?"

“I know you watch me at night, Beetlejuice,” Beck said staring directly at him.

His brain fucking broke hearing her say that.

He didn’t know how to respond. His hands stayed firmly at his sides but his fingers twitched. Beetlejuice knew it was a disastrous idea, but he longed to throw her back down onto that mattress and make her sorry for teasing him like this. More red streaked in his hair as he tried to ignore the the months he'd spent fantasizing about what he'd do to her when she had that same vibrator out.

"Lydia doesn't have to know."

He couldn't handle it. He let out a short, frustrated yell before disappearing.

⁂

Beetlejuice didn’t even bother to lock the guest bathroom door before fumbling with the button on his trousers. After he'd freed his cock, it only took a few strokes for him to finish. Beetlejuice grunted her name twice before nutting into the toilet with a howl. Tucking himself back in, he leaned against the wall above the toilet and took a deep breath he didn’t have to take. 

Is this what shame felt like?

He banged a fist lightly against the wall in frustration. He hated himself for getting into this situation. Whether he fucked Beck or Beck fucked him, it was going to turn out really, really bad for him. Lydia had never spelled it out, but he was pretty sure “screwing one of the housemates” was against her rules. 

Almost on cue, the door to the guest bathroom swung open and slammed against the wall opposite to it. The towel rack clattered to the floor from the impact of the motion. Beetlejuice gulped, doing his best to shrink into a corner of the bathroom.

“I’ll give you ten seconds to explain why I shouldn’t exorcise your ass right now,” Lydia seethed.


	3. The Ex Lover

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Maitlands make a sudden reappearance to deliver some bad news on Lydia, Beetlejuice tells the truth and Beck lies.
> 
> Drama Drama Drama.

The Maitlands sequestered themselves inside the house’s old root cellar.

Despite their work to make it livable, the windowless room was still not ideal. Two cots, a small stack of books and an oil lamp were really all they could fit in the space. Of course, it wasn’t meant to be “home” forever. It was just supposed to be for as long as it took to convince Lydia to get rid of Beetlejuice.

They hoped she would come to her senses in days but, by now, they had lost track of how many months they’d been down there.

Lydia tried so hard to make them understand her decision, but it was all in vain. Apparently Beetlejuice had come back to her one night with a sob story and it worked. She made him leave for a few hours while she reasoned with the Maitlands. They weren’t as relenting, however. 

“He’s manipulative?” Lydia argued. “Don’t you think it’s just as manipulative to leave me because… because I can forgive the past and you can’t?! You promised you’d never abandon me!”

Adam stayed quiet, but Barbara had reasoned back.

“The scars are lasting for the rest of us, Lydia,” she said calmly. “We thought it’d be the worst for you! The marriage and the death threats against your family? You can really forgive all of that?”

“Summoning is out of the question. I told him that. He can’t hurt us if he’s not summoned. And I’ve read the handbook all the way through now! I know how to get rid of him if we need to.”

“Because the last time you read something from it went really well,” Adam said quietly.

Barbara’s eyes dropped to the floor and Lydia paled.

“I’m sorry, but it’s true.”

“Adam and I love you very much, Lydia,” Barbara said, reaching out a hand to reassuringly squeeze the girl’s arm. “We won’t ever abandon you, but this is just asking too much of us. We’ll be back when you come to your senses.”

And that was that.

She was a capable and educated young woman, they agreed. The Maitlands couldn’t blame her choices on adolescent idealism anymore. She was being selfish and dangerously shortsighted by inviting him back into the home. Plus, it wasn’t just the Deetzes and the Maitlands in danger this time, either. Lydia’s five defenseless housemates didn’t know what she had signed them up for.

They kept their word. Adam and Barbara never abandoned Lydia. They made sure to keep an eye on Beetlejuice, but maintained their distance by hiding behind furniture or carefully peering just their eyes through walls. It wasn’t a flawless endeavor, of course. In fact, one of the housemates, Beck, realized she could see ghosts after catching Barbara leaning through her bedroom wall to look into the next room.

From what Adam and Barbara had seen, they still weren’t satisfied with Beetlejuice’s behavior but knew it could be worse. They hated how he’d steal from the housemates and shamelessly watch them during private and intimate moments. It seemed tame compared to his usual antics, though. At least, nothing was alarming enough to break their vow of silence. In fact, they started to wonder if Lydia was right about him being changed.

That is, until that party happened.

Those big house parties were the easiest time to keep an eye on Beetlejuice. The amount of people in the house made it easy to sneak around in the open without raising suspicion.

Barbara was watching Beetlejuice sit on the kitchen counter but got distracted when she noticed a particularly violent make out session in the next room threatened to knock over one of Delia’s giant sculptures. He wasn’t on the counter anymore when she came back. Adam didn’t see him slip away either. 

They searched the whole ground floor but there was no sign of him. That was particularly odd, considering he typically spent each party ogling people and standing uncomfortably close to them while they danced. They even checked the second floor, but they only came across Beck changing out of her party getup. She never seemed to notice Beetlejuice’s antics. Why ask her about him now?

The Maitlands hung around the crowd of young people for another 45 minutes or so, but the ghost with the most didn’t make a reappearance. He did look pretty bored that night, Barbara pointed out. Maybe he finally decided to leave.

“I’m gonna check the attic,” Adam said. “If he’s really gone, he would have taken his mess up there with him.”

He returned a few minutes later, his face twisted in an unpleasant expression.

“Is everything okay, dear? Was he up there? Did he touch you??” Barbara asked with growing concern. “I knew I shouldn’t have let you go alone!“

“It’s not that, Barbara,” Adam said quietly. “I, uh. I don’t know how to say this but… Beck definitely knows about Beetlejuice.”

⁂

“I’ll give you ten seconds to explain why I shouldn’t exorcise your ass right now,” Lydia seethed.

When she confronted Beetlejuice, her long hair was frizzy, her face was bare and she was still in her favorite nightgown. The Maitlands had waited until morning to break the news to Lydia, not wanting to spoil the night for her. At first, she was overjoyed when she awoke to the gentle sound of their voices. She sprang out of bed and hugged them both tightly. Her demeanor dropped quickly, though, when Barbara finally broke the news.

Lydia was about to confront Beck when she passed by the guest bathroom. The door was closed, but she could clearly hear the sound of Beetlejuice moaning her housemate’s name through the wood. 

“Did they really have the audacity to do this next to my room?!” she thought.

More enraged and disgusted now, she ran back to her room to grab something before confronting them.

In front of him, Beetlejuice saw that she was clutching The Handbook for the Recently Deceased in a white knuckled grip. 

She’s serious, he realized with terror.

He gulped loudly and looked at her with wide eyes. Beetlejuice scrambled to get up and even clattered to the tile floor once in his panic. Settling to beg on his knees, he pleaded incoherently at her. He was more terrified than she had ever seen, his hair just a shock of pure white. 

Lydia didn’t listen to any of what he was trying to say, instead focusing her attention on scrutinizing every detail in the bathroom with her eyes. She scanned the clawfoot tub, behind the toilet and behind the door. The cabinet below the sink was too small to fit a person. Though he’d been moaning her name, Beck was nowhere in sight. 

Beetlejuice’s babbling slowed to a more manageable speed when he noticed Lydia’s posture ease.

“That shady ‘Blood’ guy promised me it wasn’t cursed or anything, Lyds! I swear! I mean, if I can’t trust him, who can I? Plus, Beck was the one who pulled out the vib—“

“Shut up! Shut up! Just stop talking!” Lydia finally snapped.

Beetlejuice obeyed. 

She pinched the bridge of her nose and closed her eyes tightly. A small, wavering sigh was followed by a deep breath in. When she released the breath she opened her eyes, too. He noticed that they watered, but he wasn’t about to ask why, precisely, she looked like she was about to cry. Beetlejuice didn’t dare provoke her more while she still had that book.

“Adam told me he saw you with Beck last night,” Lydia said sternly. “Is it true?”

“Lydia,” he pleaded. “She was the one who—“

She raised her hand.

“Save it. I don’t want to hear about it. I asked a question. Yes or no.”

He shrunk back into the corner.

“... Maybe a little bit.”

Beetlejuice shut his eyes tightly and he wrapped his arms over his head protectively as if that would save him from being banished. Seconds passed and no incantation was read to him, though. 

He watched the hem of her nightgown flit away when he finally reopened his eyes. She was walking down the hallway as if nothing had just happened.

“Lydia?” Beetlejuice called after her. “Are you mad at me?”

“This isn’t about you,” she said.

⁂

Beck’s bedroom was at the end of a short hallway that branched off from the rest of the second floor. The door was open and Lydia approached it just in time to catch a flash of skin as Beck pulled a lilac sports bra over herself.

Lydia suspected Beck had planned for her to see that.

She rolled her eyes at the thought and crossed her arms, shifting her weight so she was leaning on the doorway. The creak of the frame caught Beck’s attention. She looked over and gave a small smile.

“Hey, stranger. Did you just get up?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m just about to go on a jog. You want to come?”

“Why?” Lydia sneered while sauntering into the room casually. “I heard you got a workout last night.”

Beck’s eyes darted to Lydia for a second. She tied her blonde hair into a ponytail and walked over to the bedside table to grab a waiting pair of headphones.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Lyd.”

The other girl’s demeanor darkened.

“I just noticed you left the party early night,” she tried to say as nonchalantly as possible. “Were you… entertaining someone upstairs?”

“That’s a pretty personal question,” she chuckled.

A surprised noise came out of Beck when Lydia suddenly slammed The Handbook for the Recently Deceased down on the nearby dresser.

“Don’t fucking lie to me, Bexley,” Lydia choked out, pointing a finger back at her. 

“What is your deal?!” Beck said.

Her expression softened a bit when she saw a tear roll down Lydia’s cheek. 

“Even Beetlejuice had the balls to own up to it. The literal demon from hell owned up to the fact that you two fucked, but you won’t.”

Beck averted her eyes and crossed her arms.

“We didn’t fuck.”

“You’re such an unholy bitch, Bexley!” she said venomously.

“You have some real nerve saying that,” Beck growled back. “I don’t care what he said, we never fucked.”

“That’s not what matters! You still messed around with this guy I told you not to!”

“I don’t get your deal, Lydia. Okay, yeah, it’s kinda weird that I’m hot for a dusty, green ghost. But I don’t get what your problem with it is.”

“My problem is I told you not to.”

“Yeah? Well, I told you to stop making such a scene when you bring Mariah over and I still have to listen to you fake it.”

“This isn’t some kind of lover’s quirrell,” Lydia said, frustrated. “Did you know that asshole forced me into a marriage and threatened to kill my family if I didn’t do it? Is that good enough reason for me to be mad?”

Beck looked at her in shocked disbelief.

“Well I never would have started anything if you’d told me that! You can’t hold it against me if I didn’t fucking know!!”

Both stood in silence for awhile. Lydia paced the floor in front of the dresser. Beck ran an exasperated hand down her face and sighed.

Like oil and water. How they even ended up with each other in the first place was a mystery. 

They knew each other from class but formally met at a too-crowded garage band concert in someone's basement. Everyone was surprised that they lasted as long as they did. Everyone knew it was a bad idea for them to sign a lease together.

Beck was like a black sheep among black sheep in Lydia’s social circle. Everyone else in the house dripped with the aesthetics of old arthouse films and hand rolled clove cigarettes. Despite sharing a major with some of the housemates, Beck never really found common ground with them outside of knowing Lydia. She was just too preppy for their taste.

Lydia was petite, dressed in flowing garments and preferred to spend her Saturdays alone in thrifted bookstores. Beck was proud to be plus-sized, rocked whatever was at the local department store like no one's business and fed off of the energy of other people.

Opposites attract then repel, so the saying goes.

“Okay. Yeah. I did it to piss you off and make you jealous,” Beck finally said. “But…”

“But what?!”

“But can it really be that bad if you let him come back?! And don’t get testy with me!” she screeched. “You want to talk about hurting people? Do you remember who cheated on who?!”

“Beck, listen...“ Lydia sighed, averting her gaze.

Beck raked a hand through her hair.

“You told me not to think too much about how much time you were spending with Mariah and that your classes kept you from answering your phone as much. Did you think you were just going to ghost me out of our own relationship? Lydia, I live here with you!”

The demure girl was quiet.

“And when I caught you kissing her, I accepted it. I fucking accepted it. I told myself that it’s natural for people to change and grow apart. I forgave your gaslighting and said we could still be friends. But fucking hell, Lyd! You’re not playing fair!”

Lydia averted her stare, leaning against the dresser with crossed arms.

“Well?”

“...I guess we’re even then,” Lydia muttered.

They studied each other intensely for a minute. Breaking the gaze, Lydia finally grabbed her book and started towards the doorway.

“Hey, you don’t want your vibrator back, do you?”

“No, Beck. I don’t… that’s… that’d be weird. No,” she said with an awkward half-laugh.

Beck closed the door behind her ex-girlfriend and sighed. No longer in the mood to go outside, she walked over to her closet to find something more befitting for a bad break up. Like an old shirt and a pint of Chunky Monkey....

“Hey, babes,” Beetlejuice said when she opened the door.

“Geezus!” she gasped, clutching her chest, “doesn’t anyone fucking knock around here?!”

“I walk around like I own the place, babes. You know that by now,” he said stepping out into the room. 

Beck rolled her eyes at him.

“I didn’t tell her we fucked, by the way. She caught me in the bathroom and… anyway, it’s not important. Did you really used to date her?”

“Yeah. Why? You don’t think it’s weird, do you?”

“Oh, of course not! A hole is a hole, babe.”

“Yeah…”

“I’m just, uh, surprised I never noticed you had a thing for girls. If you know what I mean.”

“I broke up with Lydia, like, a week before you showed up,” she shrugged. “It hurt a lot. Watching her date the girl she literally cheated on me with kills me. But, like. Why is she the only one allowed to do shitty things?” 

She felt a little bad about those words as soon as they left her mouth. Beetlejuice’s expression dropped, his hair turning purple in spots. He fidgeted with his suit jacket for a second before looking up at her.

“So, I’m just cannon fodder to make Lydia jealous?”

The way he said those words broke her heart. 

For someone who hung around her room almost exclusively to watch her undress, Beetlejuice had proven himself to be rather dynamic. Between the dream about the speakeasy, the way he backed off of her when he thought she’d drank too much and his genuine worry about what it all meant to her, he really had proven to be more human than demon in her eyes. 

Instinctively, she reached out and pulled him into a protective hug. She rest his head on her chest and pet his hair comfortingly. She was a little bemused that his hair matched her sports bra.

“I can’t lie. You kinda are,” she answered honestly. “Is that okay?”

She gasped as his sharp fingernails dug into her hips. His hair shifted into a blaze of pure magenta. When he adjusted his head to look up, Beck was both terrified and thrilled at the way he looked at her with hunger. A devilish grin was spread on his face from ear to ear.

“It’s more than okay, babes. It’s showtime.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm writing this a chapter at a time so bare with me as I struggle to keep my tags up to date, haha. This is probably the last plot-heavy chapter I'll write for a bit. I'd like to start writing drabble in earnest now.
> 
> If anyone is wondering, no, there will be no smut between Lydia and Beck.
> 
> @strange-n-unbluusual on Tumblr


	4. The Late Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one is a doozy! 18+ only!

They weren’t kidding around when they named the place Winter River.

By late November, it was uncommon for the town to go more than a day without being graced by at least another inch of snow. Constantly clearing her car was annoying, but Beck enjoyed the white stuff otherwise.

She smiled when she saw a bright light peeking through her curtains one morning. When she opened her curtains, she saw the sun was reflecting off a fresh layer of snow that had fallen during the night. About six inches lay untouched on the roof outside her window, the rays making it shine like glitter. Some fluffy flakes still floated lazily down from the sky.

Just beyond the roof, she could see the people moving around in the town. The snow there wasn’t quite as untouched as her immediate view, but the scene was still so picturesque. 

The plow trucks had already come, easily moving the puffy snow off the roadway. Most driveways were cleared, too, but tire tracks tattled on who’d woken up too late to shovel before work. Focusing on one street in particular, she noticed a man started to clear his neighbor’s driveway after finishing his own.

Children, no doubt on break from school, were already preparing barricades for snowball fights and running down the streets with sleds in hand. During Winter River's first snow this year, Beck asked Lydia if any kids ever came to sled at the house’s hill. Lydia said she’d let them if they tried, but that they hardly got visitors these days.

Something about a bad experience with a Girl Scout and a census taker? Whatever.

Inspired by the scene, Beck dragged her art desk in front of the window. Warmness tickled her feet as she walked past an air vent. Settling in her chair, she turned to a fresh page in her sketchbook and grabbed a piece of charcoal. 

It had taken a couple of days for tensions to ease, but they did. Beck and Lydia maintained their distance, but it was more out of respect than compulsion. Lydia had noticeably stayed over at her girlfriend’s house more since the big fight. When Mariah was over, though, they were considerate and quiet. That didn’t go unnoticed by Beck who, consequently, decided it was in poor taste to pointedly use Lydia’s towels to clean up after she and Beetlejuice finished screwing around.

Having the house to herself really did help Beck cleanse any petty energy that remained in her brain. Nice mornings like this, especially, made her worries feel small.

Being alone on Thanksgiving break wasn’t sad or stressful for her. With school in Connecticut and home in New Mexico, she realized early on that a trip home for such a short break just wasn’t worth it. Plus, it wasn’t like she felt alone.

Her parents kept tabs on her through text messages. She had lengthy streaks with both of her sisters on Snapchat. The ghosts were still around, too. Adam and Barbara, whose presence around the place was a bit more common now, would sometimes make idle conversation. And, of course, there was also Beetlejuice who was… a lot.

As if his snarky observations weren’t grating enough when she pretended to not hear them…

Beck didn’t know someone could be so endearing and insufferable at the same time. She’d learned to finish her work at the campus library because, geezus, Beetlejuice was an unstoppable force at home. It didn’t matter if it was noon or midnight, he was always at the door when she got home. She always found the act endearing until he opened his mouth. From the moment she came in through the door, he'd follow her around like a very talkative shadow. Beetlejuice had a surprising amount to say about his day, considering he never left the house.

Books she read, movies she watched, websites she browsed. You name it. Beetlejuice had a very staunch opinion on all of it. Don't even get him started on what he thought of her housemates. Kendra will never be “punk,” Ash’s poetry is shit, Cici’s weird nipples make her boobs look like googly eyes and Lillian is a shallow bitch. Beck had heard it all.

He never had anything bad to say about Lydia, of course.

After his conscious stream of thought ruined the emotional climax of a series she’d been binging, Beck decided she’d had enough. She was about to tell him off when a thought finally occurred to her: he only talks so much because it's been so long since he’s been heard. 

It was a cathartic moment.

It was also cathartic when she learned he got really quiet after blowing a load or two. 

They had yet to bang outright. He told her that they couldn't. Something about Netherworld bureaucracy barring him from having sex with a mortal without being summoned. Wary of unleashing a demon for the sake of a 30 second bone sesh (give or take, she imagined), Beck decided she was fine with just hand and tongue stuff.

Speaking of bedroom calisthenics, it was weird he wasn’t curled up next to her that morning.

Beck looked up from her drawing pad to glimpse at the town again, but was distracted by something new on the roof. 

She adjusted her posture just enough to make out the beady eyes of a snowman sitting outside her window. The snow used to make it was dirty looking, brown and grey. Its eyes and mouth were made up of tiny pebbles. A black and white striped scarf hung loosely from its neck. A gust of wind blew the knit fabric against the (several?) flimsy twigs being used for arms.

“Hey, sugar tits! Coffee’s on!” Beetlejuice announced while kicking the door to her room open.

Beck flinched, causing the charcoal she was holding to make a thick line on the paper. She frowned at the mistake, but decided not to make a big deal out of it. She could probably pass it off as a tree branch or something. Oh well.

Turning to face him, she was relieved to see him holding two mugs. Caffeine was just what she needed.

“You don’t have anything to do with that cute snowman on the roof, do you, Lawrence?” she asked while grabbing a cup.

“Cute? He’s not cute,” Beetlejuice scoffed. “Look at him peeping into your room! That dirty pervert.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve let that slide.”

He grinned and pulled her to his side with his free arm. She tried her best to ignore the gesture, opting to clutch her hot mug with both hands instead of embracing him back. Messing around was one thing, but she still wasn’t sure what to do when he made affectionate little gestures like these.

Still, there were worse ways to start a morning.

Beck took a sip of the coffee. Her face twisted into disgust.

“Something wrong, babes?”

“W-what did you use to make this?”

“Dirt and water,” He said taking a gulp of the stuff. “Why do you think the snowman is so dirty? I spent the morning digging through the garden to make this.”

Trying to contain her repulsion, Beck calmly walked over to her dresser and set the mug down.

“What? Is this not how you’re supposed to do it?” he asked. “Lydia said it was made with plants.”

“Yeah! A coffee plant. Which is definitely not topsoil.”

“Well I got it from the garden, didn’t I?!”

Beck took a deep breath.

“You are… something,” she said.

“I don’t get your deal. It tastes the same to me,” he shrugged.

“Stop drinking that!”

Beetlejuice stared her down as he chugged the rest. He patted his tummy and made a satisfied “ah” noise. Beck rolled her eyes but cracked a smile. 

Jokes on him, she thought. She wouldn’t touch him again until he used some mouthwash.

You can’t have a weak stomach when you’re with someone like him, Beck had learned. If it wasn’t clear from the moss on his face and the dust that wafted off of him when he moved, they guy had an affinity for filth. What was more frustrating than the dirty clothes and greasy hair, though, was that she knew he could do something about it with a wave of his hand. Fucker didn’t even need to shower! He just liked being that way!

Beck liked her men dirty, though.

“I was just trying to do something nice for you,” he grumbled.

“Hon, I know, but it’s gross” Beck laughed. 

She slightly regretted using the pet name when she saw him visibly perk up at its use.

“Let me get changed and I’ll make a real breakfast,” she quickly added.

“Are you gonna make pancakes?!” he gasped, lighting up further.

“If you want, I guess.”

“Fuck yeah!”

⁂

Later in the day, they’d decided to turn on a movie. One of Beetlejuice’s favorites— The Exorcist. He was so enamored with the screen he didn’t even see her slip away. He was re-alerted of her presence at the sound of heels clicking on the kitchen’s wood floor. He whipped his head around, desperate to get a view of her from the living room.

Beck was wearing tall brown boots and very tight jeans. The straps of a lacey bralette peeked out tastefully from under a knit sweater. A bit of jewelry and makeup accentuated her features. Her hair fell in big, loose waves just above her shoulders. Her coat and purse were held under one arm.

Beetlejuice wolf whistled, grabbing her attention.

“You look like a million bucks, Beck!” Beetlejuice said, walking over and slapping her ass.

“Thanks,” she said awkwardly. “I actually wanted to wear this cute bandeau and jacket I picked up the other day, but I’ll save that for when it gets warmer. Hoes don’t get cold, but they do get pneumonia.”

“Why are you worried about getting sick? I thought you were staying in today.”

“No. I actually need to head out soon.”

“Why? Grocery store closing?”

“No, Lawrence,” Beck giggled. “I’m going to the pub downtown. This guy from my sculpting class struck up a conversation with me about craft beer. Apparently he knows the woman who owns the place. We’re gonna try some of their new pours together.”

Beetlejuice was quiet for a moment before he finally responded with a breathy laugh.

“If I didn’t know you any better, Bexley, I’d say it sounds like you’re going on a date.”

“Yeah,” she sighed. “Yeah I am. My first since Lydia.”

“Well, you can’t go then!” he snapped.

She looked up at him in surprise.

“And why the fuck not?” Beck spat back.

“Because you and I are already together.”

Oh boy.

Beck’s mouth gaped open for a second, not exactly sure what to say.

“No, we’re not,” she said firmly. “I’m sorry I never laid it out, but what we have is strictly casual.”

“It’s not casual, babes,” he insisted.

Beetlejuice’s words were calm, but she didn’t miss the bits of red that were starting to fleck his green hair.

“We can talk about this later,” Beck said dismissively. “I need to go.”

Beetlejuice pinned her against the wall, holding her firmly in place by clutching her forearms above her head. Her shoes felt like they were glued to the ground— likely his powers holding her. She struggled against him, but quickly realized it was useless.

“Are you going to hurt me?”

“No, baby, never,” Beetlejuice cooed into her ear. “I’m just going to prove a point.”

“What point?”

“That your fucking little breather flings can't hold a candle to how good I make you feel.”

Beck didn’t get a chance to respond before he hoisted her from the wall and laid her on the nearby countertop. He quickly undid her jeans but looked at her for approval before pulling them down. She hesitated for a moment before shrugging.

“Prove your point, big shot. Make it fast.”

Beck knew she was being greedy and inconsiderate for pulling a stunt like this so close to her date, but she couldn't help herself. She'd become addicted to his constant attention.

She tensed at the coldness of his tongue, but it quickly warmed inside her. It always did. One of Beetlejuice’s hands grasped her thigh while the thumb of the other worked her clit. Her hips spasmed at infrequent intervals at the pleasureful sensation. 

She loved the way his tongue pulsed inside her at a steady rhythm. At first she was turned off by how inhuman in looked— wormlike and darker than a human one. The way it could stretch and move her, though, was incomparable to anything else she'd experienced. He was already driving her wild, his movements simple but skilled.

He wasn’t allowed to know that, of course.

Beetlejuice looked up at Beck. She was supported on her elbows, giving her enough height to look back down at him blankly. He knew she was trying her best to be unenthused, but her act wasn’t convincing. Aside from her electrified hips, he could read the lust in her eyes and hear the lilt of an occasional whine leave her mouth.

Not good enough.

Craving a more intense reaction, he slid out to tease her ass for a second. When she opened her mouth to gasp, he quickly rammed the tongue back into its familiar sheath. Beck’s hips bucked into his mouth and she let out long, pleasurable cry.

Beetlejuice smirked, raising an eyebrow at her from his spot below.

“Don’t get cocky,” she groaned.

Repositioning, he placed a hand on either of her thighs and spread her legs further apart. He took a second to appreciate how beautiful and vulnerable she was in this position before diving in headfirst again. She panted, weaving a needy hand in his hair. She'd move him gently, desperate to chase her orgasm with his help. She loved it when he maneuvered so that his appendage could both rub her little pleasure button and fill her insides.

She closed her eyes, imagining it was his cock filling her instead.

After manipulating her with his mouth for a while, Beetlejuice withdrew. Beck, who’d mostly shucked off her pants by that point, wrapped a desperate leg around the back of his head. She tried to push him back into place.

“I’m so fucking close,” she pleaded, “Please don’t stop.”

Everything in him wanted to oblige her.

Beetlejuice was obsessed. He craved to feel her fall apart in his hands. After so many rendezvous like this, it started to felt like his purpose in unlife was to worship her body. It felt like sin to not to give in to her wants.

But he had a point to make…

Beetlejuice kissed her left thigh, the wetness from around his mouth transfering partially onto her with it.

“You can cum when you tell me that no breather will ever satisfy you again.”

“That no wha-? Oh!”

She threw her head back and arched towards him as he slowly slid a thick finger in. The speed was disappointing and teasingly slow. Sitting upright now, Beck tried to stimulate herself further but was unable. Her hips felt like they were being held in place, making it impossible to ramp up the speed by rocking back and forth. Her hands, similarly, felt stuck to the counter. It kept her from playing with her clit. 

Beck tried to contain her frustration but failed miserably. Finger still moving painstakingly slow, Beetlejuice watched her thin veneer of calm fall apart. A deep, grounding sigh from her lips slowly became a vexed protest. He laughed openly at her struggle and pressed his forehead against hers. The proximity gave them both a rush.

“Say ‘you’ve spoiled my body too much’ and maybe I’ll let you cum,” he said.

“I’ve had better!” Beck spat back.

He bit her neck in response. Pleased at the scream he elicited from her, he kissed the mark it made.

“Don’t do that! I don’t want Nathan to see it.”

"Fuck Nathan!"

Beetlejuice was about to bite harder when he got distracted by a buzzing noise. They both got quiet. Looking around, he realized it was coming from her jacket on the floor. It, along with her purse, were knocked out of her hands when he pushed her against the wall.

She grumbled when his hand and face left her body. Beetlejuice leaned down and fished the buzzing thing— her cellphone— out of her jacket. He looked at the glowing screen, an evil grin spreading on his face when he saw who was calling her.

“Pick it up. Now,” he demanded as he tossed it to her.

He dismissed the restraint from one of her hands, allowing her to catch. She swallowed nervously before answering.

“H-hi Nathan."

Beetlejuice resumed his position on her neck and teased her entrance with his fingers. As he placed his other hand on the small of her back, Beck realized with horror what he was about to do.

She bit her lip to suppress a moan as two of his thick fingers slammed into her repeatedly. It made her crazy, feeling the hilt of his hand ram against her pelvis. Beck tried to close her thighs to buffer the movement, but his powers still kept her position locked. He nibbled and sucked her neck, careful not to bite too hard this time. She liked it when he paid attention to the spot on her collar bone, too, he'd learned.

Her body trembled at the sensations. A tremor was in her voice, too.

“I’m not standing you up, I promise,” she laughed nervously into the phone. “I, uh, I’m stuck at my house. My car won’t start. Sometimes that happens when it gets too cold.”

Beck let out a yelp as Beetlejuice put a third digit into her.

“No! I’m fine. My back just hurts from hunching over my desk all day. W-what was that? Oh! Uh, yeah that’d be awesome. You're the best. I’ll see you in five.”

She hung up the phone, immediately tossing it aside in order to manipulate her clit. Beetlejuice laughed against her skin.

“Not so cool now are you, Bexley.”

“Shut up and finger fuck me like you mean it.”

That was all the prodding he needed.

Her sweater bunched up as the hand on her back clenched into a fist. Beetlejuice started kissing her on the mouth. Beck kissed back, fiery need consuming them both. When he untethered her other hand, he was surprised to feel her tugging his pants down. He moaned into her mouth at the way she stroked him. 

Beck's concentration on him wavered. She broke their kiss and stopped manipulating his cock, too focused on getting herself off before she had to leave.

A long and drawn out scream soon crescendoed from Beck’s mouth. It was so unabashed it almost made Beetlejuice blush. He loved it when she didn't care who heard her cumming. I made him feel powerful. The Maitlands were probably somewhere out of sight and clutching their pearls over it. He certainly didn't give a fuck, though.

“Oh, fuck, baby. That’s right. Ride it out,” he whispered.

Combined with the feeling of her hand on his cock, the sensation of her body clenching around his fingers was almost too much. Beetlejuice was close to climax, too.

Regaining control of herself, Beck's hand started working him again. Beetlejuice grunted and came all over the base of the countertop.

They just stared at each other after coming down from their respective highs. The silence spoke volumes. 

In a moment of tenderness, Beetlejuice tried to kiss Beck, but she turned her head.

Wordlessly, she readjusted her clothing. He watched bemused as she maneuvered her hair to fall over the purple and red mark he’d left on her skin. Hearing a car horn honk outside, she picked up her things and headed for the door. 

Beck dared to glance back at him one last time.

Beetlejuice smirked back, mouthing the word “spoiled."

She slammed the door behind her.

⁂

The date was a bust. Nathan didn’t even go in for a kiss when he dropped her off. 

It's not like she had anyone else to blame but herself, though.

Beck was distant the whole time, her mind more interested in replaying what had just happened rather than listen to her date talk. When she did pay Nathan mind, it wasn't for long. She was self-conscious about hiding the hickey on her neck. She was too distracted to give meaningful answers to the questions he asked. She was too overwhelmed with the worry that he could smell Beetlejuice on her. It wasn't long before he gave up on coaxing conversation out of her.

“Whelp. See you in class Tuesday,” he sighed when he dropped her off.

"Thank you. I'm sorry," was all she could manage to say back.

She really did feel sorry. She really did like him. 

Beck was surprised that Beetlejuice wasn’t waiting for her in the foyer. She thought for sure he would been itching to gloat about how he was right. About how that dumb breather didn’t have a chance with her and all that.

He wasn’t waiting in her room when she got up there, either. 

This was so unlike him, Beck thought. Where the hell could he be?

The ceiling above her room creaked.

“That bastard,” she muttered.

The message was clear: not only did he demand that she grovel, he demanded she actually go up to the attic to do it.

Resolved that she wouldn’t play his game, Beck started to get ready for bed and kicked off her shoes. Tossing her keys onto her dresser, she noticed the coffee cup that had been left there earlier. The art desk was still by the window, too, along with the drawing she’d been working on.

Picking up the sketch pad, she noticed the thick black line from before was gone. The picture, otherwise, was the same aside from the addition of two crudely drawn figures. A man and a woman peered out at the rest of the town from a window in the top part in one of the houses. The detail was hard to make out, but she could tell they were holding teeny tiny coffee cups.

Beck smiled despite herself.


	5. The Stick Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beetlejuice gets some new ink and hangs out with Lydia.

Beetlejuice was in denial and Beck was stubborn.

He thought it would only be hours until she fell into his arms and confessed her love. It bruised his ego a bit when she didn't. She thought he’d get over it and fuck her mouth or something. Alas.

At least she got to finish some of her work at home now that Beetlejuice was holing himself up in the attic. Beck was pouring over a project one day when the sound of his laugh rumbled through her ceiling vent. She could hear Lydia’s voice, too, faintly. It sounded like she was telling him a joke.

Hm.

Beck paused to look at where the snowman outside her window used to be. In the week or two that had passed, it’d been reduced to nothing more than an icy pile under layers of new snow. She’d removed its scarf before it, too, got buried. Not because she wanted to keep it or anything, she told herself, it was just because she didn’t want it to ruin the house’s shingles.

She stared at the scarf, now neatly folded on her dresser. As soon as he stopped pouting, Beck convinced herself, she'd give it right back.

The sound of Beetlejuice and Lydia laughing reverberated through the vent again. Beck sighed audibly before going back to her work.

She truly did not miss him, but his absence was notable.

As the days passed, Beetlejuice became hungry for any kind of attention from Beck— positive or negative.

The housemates used to be just apathetic to her presence, but they started to despise her. Kendra got mad when she found her leftover containers in Beck’s trash can. Ash cried when they found their poetry journal had the word “shit” written on every page in Beck’s distinctive handwriting. That made Cici furious. Lillian was willing to ignore all the drama until the art project she had laid out on the floor was destroyed by someone stepping on it. The footprint suspiciously matched the tread on Beck’s boots.

Lydia didn’t want to intervene, but decided she had to do something before retaliation started.

When she entered the attic, Beetlejuice was laying across the sofa. At least, what remained of the sofa. In his plight to make the space more homey, he’d torn up the cushions and made something of a nest out of the fluff. 

One hand propped his head up while the other was draped along the curve of his body. His tie was loose and a couple of shirt buttons were undone.

He started talking as the door creaked open, but quickly changed gears when he realized who it was.

“I knew you'd be ba-- Oh! It’s just you again. Hey, kid.”

“I really wish you’d stop doing that. She’s not going to come back until you stop.”

“Stop what, Lyds?” he said innocently. “I don’t have the faintest clue what you're talking about.”

“Don’t play dumb,” she drawled while crossing her arms. “I know you ate Ken’s food, mimicked Beck’s handwriting to ruin Ash’s poetry and stepped through Lillian’s art. You need to stop before they do something back.”

“Fine. Be that way,” he smirked while readjusting his shirt and tie. “And for the record, babes? Beck was the one that stepped through Lil’s canvas. That one is all on her.”

“There’s still consequences for the other things! I know you listen to her through the vent all the time. Don’t you hear her calling around asking about other lease options? Is it really going to be any better for you if she moves?!” 

Beetlejuice turned to lay on his back. He kicked his feet up on the armrest and casually started picking at something under his fingernail.

“I could follow her if I wanted to. And whatever the housemates can retaliate with isn’t even half of what I can do. Trust me, Lyds. I could make things a lot worse for Beck.”

Lydia’s expression darkened. He looked back at her smugly, unaffected by her glare.

“Make them worse?” Lydia asked, stepping towards him threateningly. “What, are you going to kill her if she doesn’t give you what you want? Are you going to threaten her like you did my family?”

His not-beating heart dropped when she said those words.

“My own father wouldn’t speak to me for two whole months after I told him I let you come back. I told them that you’re different, but it’s not really a coincidence that they haven’t stopped by in the last eight months. Adam and Barbara were just as upset!” Lydia fumed. 

Beetlejuice’s arrogant confidence disappeared completely. He sat up, purple starting to rise from the roots of his hair.

“This is how you repay me for all the grief I've gotten?” she continued. “By sleeping with my ex-girlfriend and then messing with the whole house because she won't commit to you?” 

“I’ll stop antagonizing everyone, I promise,” Beetlejuice pleaded. “I’ve changed. You know I have, Lydia. It’s just that some habits are harder to shake than others.”

She stared at him for a long time before letting out a breath she seemed to be holding in.

“Okay. But I mean it, Beej. No more hurting people.”

He nodded, but mumbled something under his breath.

“Do you have something to say?” Lydia challenged.

“No, I don’t. It’s just…”

“What?”

“I-I don’t know why you’re defending Beck after… everything.”

“Why’s that?”

Beetlejuice rolled his eyes and sighed.

“Well, it's not like you love her or anything,” he said.

“Do you?” Lydia replied, slightly scandalized.

Sprigs of pink shot into his hair. He babbled while running a hand over his scalp in a subconscious gesture to hide it.

“Well, I don’t think I love her but—”

“Because what you’re doing to her is not love,” she interrupted.

His expression fell.

“I’m not sure if I’ve ever really loved someone romantically, Beej, but I know what it’s supposed to look like. Love is being kind to someone even when you’re mad at them. It’s about caring for them despite their flaws.”

He hesitated before responding.

“It’s not like I’ve had a bunch of good role models to show me how it’s done, Lydia,” he chuckled nervously while rubbing the back of his head.

“Hey,” she said, walking over to sit on the armrest closest to him.

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

“Gross,” Beetlejuice snorted.

Lydia giggled. He leaned his head against her arm as she reassuringly stroked his hair. He didn’t say much to her for a minute, but she knew her words meant a lot from the bolts of lime green that popped up under her palm.

“You just have to be patient,” she said while flicking a dead bug off his shoulder. “I think she’ll come around. It might take until after winter break, but—”

“After winter break?! How long is that for?” Beetlejuice whined.

“I dunno. It starts in mid-December and goes on for a few weeks? So, early January?”

He groaned.

“I know it sucks, but you need to give her space. You need to stop sabotaging your relationships with people.”

“When have I ever sabotaged anything?!”

He shrank under the glare she shot him.

“Alright, alright. I get it. Stop looking at me like that.”

⁂

Beetlejuice didn’t think much of it when he heard someone ascending the attic steps early on a Saturday morning. The floorboards outside the attic door creaked like someone was waiting there. No one came in, though.

Weird that Lydia wouldn’t just walk in like always, he thought. Maybe she forgot something in her room and went back downstairs?

Seconds later, realization hit him like a bus.

“Beck!” he called.

Beetlejuice nearly fell over himself as he rushed to the door, anxious to let her in. 

He was suddenly overwhelmed with want again. His nerve endings felt like they would burst at just the thought of holding her again. He couldn’t wait to hug her tightly and breathe in the sweet smell of her hair. He’d kiss her and caress her until she moaned his name three times. 

Then, he’d plow her into the fucking floorboards— no! Wait! He’d make love to her.

Make. Love.

The epiphany came too late, though.

He flung the door open just in time to hear the lock on the front door click.

Beetlejuice wanted to chase after her, follow her home, even. But the memory of Lydia's words rang in his mind's ear. Beck needs to be the one to make the next move.

Sullen, he closed the door. Beetlejuice walked back to the nook by the attic window and sat down on its sun-faded cushion. If he craned his neck just right, he could see the driveway below. He watched her load the taxi with suitcases even though the sun’s reflection off her hot pink puffy jacket made him squint a little. 

Before she entered the cab, Beck turned over her shoulder to look at the house one more time. Their eyes locked when she looked to the attic. Beetlejuice pressed his hand against the window. She gave him a small wave back before getting into the car.

He watched her ride drive away until it disappeared over the horizon.

“She’ll be back,” he assured himself out loud.

Curious to see how the house had changed (eager to go through Beck’s things...), Beetlejuice descended to the second floor. All was quiet aside from Lydia’s room. Slow jazz music lilted out of the crack in her doorway along with a soft beam of light. 

Desperate to sneak past her unnoticed, he tiptoed gingerly over to Beck’s room and passed through the door like a ghost. 

On the other side of the threshold, he paused a second before shucking off his shoes. Everything seemed the same aside from a few missing artifacts— her laptop, her sketchbooks, her art portfolio folder. A chuckle escaped from his lips when he noticed a familiar black and white striped scarf on her dresser. His hand grazed against the knit material before sliding down to grasp the drawer just below it.

He yanked it open and grabbed a handful of the disorganized panties inside. While shoving half the wad into his jacket’s inner pocket, Beetlejuice noticed he’d uncovered something. His eyes bulged.

In the middle of her underwear, unmistakably, was a dildo at least seven inches long. Just seeing it made Beetlejuice's lust more rabid, but he managed to close the drawer without messing with it. He’d spend the better part of the time she was away, he decided, thinking of the things he’d do to her with it.

With some of the panties still clenched in one hand, he dove onto her bed. The plush feeling of the down feather comforter had been sorely missed. The sun illuminated the room's white walls beautifully. The pillows were thick with her scent which turned his arousal into euphoria. Beetlejuice paused to take it all in before fumbling with his pants. 

He sure missed watching her wake up next to him on days like this.

One hand pressed the panties and pillows against his nose and while the other got to work.

He didn’t hear the doorknob jiggle open. Thank goodness the pillow obscured most of him.

Lydia still screamed in surprise, though.

“What the fucking hell, Beetlejuice?!” she yelled from the other side of the now closed door.

He fell off the bed in his scramble to make himself decent. His head bent at an awkward angle from hitting Beck's side table.

“C’mon! Can you really blame me?!”

“Yes I can! Put everything away!”

“What am I supposed to do until she comes back?” he whined.

“I said put it away!!”

Begrudgingly, he adjusted himself, shoved the panties back in the drawer (save the ones in his jacket) and haphazardly threw the pillows back on the bed.

“You’re an animal,” Lydia said when he opened the door.

“I’ve been called far worse by far better,” Beetlejuice scoffed while popping his head back into place.

Lydia playfully punched his arm before motioning for him to follow her. When they got to her room, she sat down at her desk. Beetlejuice sat on her nearby bed. On her desk, he noticed a paper towel was laid out along with rubbing alcohol, neosporin, black ink and what looked like a needle taped to the back of a pencil. He didn't think much of it at first.

"Everyone else seems to be gone for the holiday, Lyds. Why are you still around?"

"To make sure Beck still has underwear in that drawer when she gets back."

"Is that it?"

"No," she drawled while placing her left forearm face up on the table. "I've told you how exhausting my half-brother can be. I love Ezra, don't get me wrong, but toddlers are a handful. I thought I'd give dad and Delia another night to get the house back in order. It doesn't matter to me, but she gets really embarrassed if things are messy."

Lydia dipped the needle in ink and positioned it over her arm.

“Hey! Don’t do that! You’ll hurt yourself!” Beetlejuice said, shoeing away the hand holding the tool.

“Relax. It’s called a stick and poke tattoo. Do you want one?”

“I usually keep my body mods au naturel, babes.”

“Sounds like something a pussy would say.”

“I’ll show you who’s a pussy!” he said while rolling up his sleeve.

“Okay,” she giggled. “Just let me touch up mine first. Besides, it’s a little too late to tell me I shouldn’t.”

When Beetlejuice looked at her upturned arm again, he noticed there was already a tattoo there. It was about the size of a half dollar coin and near her elbow. The dots already on her skin were arranged to look like a magnolia flower. Despite how faded it looked, he was transfixed by the skillful way the simple dots were arranged to mimic light and shadow. 

Lydia didn’t wince as she pricked the ink-soaked needle against her skin.

“It’s not my best work, but it’s still one of my favorites,” she mumbled. “I don’t think everyone can say that about the tattoo they gave themself at 17.”

“Chuck must’ve lost his shit when he saw it.”

“Only for a little while. This kind of flower was mom’s favorite.”

Beetlejuice relaxed his posture a bit, transfixed by the way she worked. He liked watching the greying dots become vibrant black. Lydia tapped her foot to the beat of the slow, smooth music still playing from the turntable in the corner of the room.

It was nice that they could still have moments like these.

“Have you thought about what tattoo you want me to give you?”

“A crown.”

“Why?”

“It’s kind of a long story, but you know that movie about the labyrinths by Jimi Hendrix?”

Lydia froze. She calmly set down her tool and turned to look him dead in the eye.

“First of all, it’s Jim Henson. Second, I’m not letting you get a tattoo for Beck.”

“Why not?! I’m a grownup! I can make my own choices. I’m older than you!” he said indignantly.

Lydia rolled her eyes and pulled on the neckline of her shirt to reveal her shoulder.

“See that? A tiny green shamrock with the letter ‘L’ on the side. ‘L’ for Lydia, you may ask? Nope! ‘L’ for Laurel McCann,” she deadpanned. “Beej, I’m not even Irish and I have a shamrock tattoo. Moral of the story is don’t fall in love with the first person you sleep with in college.”

Heeding her advice, he thought about the question again. Beetlejuice propped his head up on one hand and tapped his chin thoughtfully. His eyes lit up.

“Oh! Okay. I got it. What about this: ‘my mom’s a bitch.’”

“You can’t be serious.”

“I want it on my forehead!”

“Absolutely not. Not your face or butt or anywhere else sensitive like that. I’ve seen enough of you today.”

Beetlejuice groaned dramatically and flopped back onto her bed. He laid there, trying his best to think of something else. It felt like an impossible task, though. All he could think about was Beck and also how Lydia’s comforter wasn’t as comfy as hers. After some time had passed, Lydia lightly kicked his leg. 

“Okay, I’m done. Beej, I have an idea for you. What about—” 

“Nah, don’t tell me. I love surprises. Just stick it in me.”

“Don’t say it like that.”

He laughed and laid his right forearm out on the desk just like she had earlier.

“It’s going to sting a little bit,” she said while rubbing his wrist with an alcohol pad. “Do you want to try a little dot first before committing to the whole thing?”

“Nah, babes. I’m dead! Nothing hurts wh— Fucking hell!!”

She tried not to smirk at his reaction to the first pinprick.

“Are you really sure you want to go through with this?” Lydia asked.

Beetlejuice just grunted in affirmation.

She started to work on the middle of his wrist. For a demon, he had a surprisingly low pain threshold. Beetlejuice got used to the stabbing sensation, but the longer she worked, the more it felt like torture. Lydia let him take small breaks and told him he had to be careful about clenching his hand while she worked. He wanted to whine, but managed to power through.

“Done! You can look now,” Lydia said after what felt like a lifetime.

Beetlejuice smiled at the new artwork on his wrist. She had used negative space to make it look like the pale eyes of a black and white striped beetle were looking back up at him.

“Now we match!” Lydia said while showing off her own wrist. “I designed it myself.”

She’d clearly visited a studio to get her own done. However, for a freehanded stick and poke tattoo, his wasn’t half bad either.

“You did good, kid! Chuck and Diana didn’t send you to art school for nothing. But tell me, can yours do this?”

Lydia nearly fell out of her chair as the bug on Beetlejuice’s arm came to life. It scuttled around his wrist and ran part way up his arm before returning to its original place.

“Cool trick,” she said breathlessly.

He studied her face for a moment before asking his next question.

“Why did you want to get something like this in the first place? To immortalize your trauma?”

“No,” she said thoughtfully. “I got it to remind me that family will always be there for you when you need them most. It reminds me that, even though what we went through was hard, it made us stronger. We lived.”

Lydia clasped Beetlejuice’s shoulder and smiled at him.

“Maybe it’ll help you remember that, too.”

Beetlejuice smiled back, reaching up to squeeze her hand with his own. His smile drooped slightly as he considered what he was going to ask her next.

“Hey, Lydia?”

“Yeah?”

“I think it’s time I proved to everyone that I’ve changed,” Beetlejuice sighed. “Do you think you could help me figure out… how to do that?”

“Hell yeah, Beej.”


	6. The Eavesdropper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beck realizes some things.

“I’ll stop antagonizing everyone, I promise,” Beetlejuice pleaded. “I’ve changed. You know I have, Lydia. It’s just that some habits are harder to shake than others.”

Beck dropped the pencil she was holding. It rolled off her art desk and onto the floor. Elbows still resting on the desk, she smoothed her hands over her hair and let out a shaky sigh of relief. 

She knew it was rude to eavesdrop but, short of leaving the room, there was not much she could do to ignore the voices coming through the vent. It was rude, after all, and she had other things she needed to focus on.

Her gaze lazily drifted to the large piece of paper in front of her. She had been poised to start sketching right before Lydia started laying into Beetlejuice. Though nerves made it impossible to focus now, Beck was relieved she could cross “moving out” off her already crowded to-do list. Though the growing resentment against her was certainly a deterrent, final projects and study groups mainly were why she hardly did anything but sleep at the house. 

Hell, the only reason she was there now was because she’d forgotten to ask her professor for extra studio time. What a coincidence she’d manage to catch that exchange between Beetlejuice and Lydia.

Bending over to grab the pencil off the floor, Beck briefly considered that Lydia might have meant for her to hear the commotion.

“I-I don’t know why you’re defending Beck after… everything.”

Beck tried stubbornly to, again, focus on her art, but Beetlejuice had just asked exactly what she’d been wondering.

“Why’s that?” Lydia asked.

“Well, it's not like you love her or anything.”

“Do you?”

“Of fucking course he doesn’t,” Beck mumbled to herself.

When she didn’t hear Beetlejuice’s immediate reply, though, she paled. Simultaneously, it felt like her heart was going to burst out her chest and her head was going to explode from rage.

Resigned, Beck left the desk to stand below the vent. Arms tightly crossed and leg anxiously bouncing, she strained to hear a whisper of a response from the demon.

“Well, I don’t think I love her but—”

Oh no.

“Because what you’re doing to her is not love,” Lydia said firmly.

Below, Beck nodded vigorously.

“How dare he,” she thought bitterly. “How fucking dare he.”

If she could have gone back in time and prevented their whole affair, she would have. Ever since she’d refused his sorry attempt to court her, Beetlejuice had become a blight on her life. All because of him, Beck’s relationship with Lydia had irreversibly soured and the other housemates had started to hate her even more. How dare he liken any of what he was doing to love.

“It’s not like I’ve had a bunch of good role models to show me how it’s done, Lydia.”

Beck’s angry, buzzing thoughts stilled.

It really wasn’t all his fault.

“Hey,” Lydia said.

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

“Gross.”

Hm.

Lydia deserves more credit than she's given, Beck decided.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this isn't one of my "famously" long chapters, haha. I wanted to publish something, though. It's just been too long! I hope to add another chapter (a bit longer) next week. Stay tuned! Thanks for your patience.


	7. The Appy Polly Loggy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the spirit of the holidays, Beck and Lydia make nice.

The morning of her flight out of town, Beck awkwardly stood outside of Lydia’s bedroom door. Her left hand clutched the handle of an oversized rolling suitcase. The right skillfully balanced a stack of plush, orchid-color towels.

She took a deep breath as she slowly released her grip on both her suitcase handle and art portfolio. A buzz from the phone in her coat pocket reminded her that she was on a schedule. Her rideshare would be ready to take her to the airport at 9 o’clock sharp. That only left her about 15 minutes to wrap up business here.

Beck grimaced and, despite herself, fidgeted with the ribbon wrapped around the towels.

What should have been a long, thoughtfully crafted conversation with Lydia had been relegated to a choppy, unrehearsed apology. At first, Beck had convinced herself that, between studying and projects, there just wasn’t enough time to do it. When she was done with exams by Wednesday, though, her excuses had to get a little more creative. 

That night, she went into town to buy Lydia’s gift. Still, for three days she agonized about actually presenting it to her. Every time she nearly had the nerve to do it, something more pressing always came up. 

Of course she had to plan the craft beer appreciation club’s week-by-week itinerary for next semester. She also had to run each item by Seth— it had to meet club president standards, after all. After returning home from meeting all of her friends for coffee individually, Beck realized it had also been a while since the bathrooms had been deep cleaned. The kitchen floor was looking a little grimy, too. So were the walls.

By Friday night, she’d planned her every move for the next semester, personally seen all of her friends off and made the house sparkle. After packing her bags and securing the gifts she’d bought her family, she sighed deeply and looked at the clock. Midnight. 

Dammit.

Beck just didn’t really didn’t want to say “sorry.”

Letting go of the ribbon, she took a deep breath. In a single motion, she exhaled and raised her fist to rap on the door. Just before her knuckles made contact, it opened.

“Oh! Lydia! Uh, hey!”

“...Hey.”

She was dressed in a simple, casual way. A short sleeve black shirt, tartan skirt and textured leggings. In their time knowing each other, Beck never really regarded Lydia as a morning person. She was surprised to see her awake and dressed so early on a Saturday.

“I, uh, I have to go somewhere,” Beck said nervously. “I just wanted to give you some towels first. Happy holidays, I guess.” 

Nerves made her accidentally shove the stack in the Lydia’s face. She stumbled backwards a bit because of it.

“Oh, um. Thanks. I didn’t get anything for you but… yeah, thank you.”

“I didn’t think you would get me anything. I mean, it’s totally fine. Because we haven’t, like… talked at all since. Things. Anyway, that’s still your favorite color, right?”

Smooth.

“...It is,” Lydia said suspiciously while grasping the pile from Beck’s outstretched hand. “Are you feeling okay?”

“Yeah, I just uh—”

Another buzz from her phone made Beck start to get nervous. She subconsciously rubbed her sweaty palms on her pants.

“Look, I-I just think I’ve been really shitty to you, Lydia. I messed around with Lawrence behind your back and then I rubbed it in your face when you found out. I never should’ve started things with him. It wasn’t fair and it wasn’t nice. I overheard you telling him off a few weeks ago. You just really saved my ass and I—”

“It’s okay, Bexley. I accept your apology.”

The blonde paused mid-sentence.

“...Just like that?”

“Well, yes and no,” Lydia sighed. “Both of us screwed up. Both of us know we screwed up. So, I’m sorry, too, you know?”

“I see. Well, apology accepted...?”

“Thanks. There’s probably a lot more we should talk about, but I don’t want you to miss your flight. Maybe we could get coffee when you get back?

“Well, I guess that doesn’t sound like the worst idea in the world.”

Both forced a laugh at the quip. The brief silence that followed it was awkward and felt like it lasted forever.

“Sooo...Are your sisters doing well?” Lydia finally said.

“Maeve and Alva? Yeah. As far as I know, anyway. I’m excited to spend Christmas with them.”

“That’s awesome.”

“Uh, how are things with Mariah?”

“We broke up.”

“Oh.”

“It’s probably for the best. Hey, um, by the way. Don’t get me wrong, I really like these,” Lydia said while gesturing to the towels. “But, like. Why?”

Beck darted her eyes away from Lydia. She felt feverish while trying to think of an excuse. Briefly, she wondered if Lydia would also forgive her for using her other set of towels as jizz rags.

Better not risk it.

“Oh, I just saw them and thought of you. You love dark purple things,” she said dismissively.

“You know me so well,” Lydia smiled. “Twice as many towels means I can hold off on doing laundry twice as long.”

“Or maybe just throw the old ones away!” Beck laughed awkwardly. “They’re probably gross. I think I saw a frat bro… like… vomit on one once... or something.”

“What?”

“Nothing,” Beck said while grabbing her luggage and turning away. “But also maybe, like, actually get rid of them. Okay, bye Lydia! See you next semester.”

“Hey, Beck? One more thing.”

Cautiously, the blonde turned her head to look back.

“What’s up?”

“I think you should give Beej another chance.”

Beck couldn’t believe what she was hearing Lydia suggest.

“What?! Why would I want to do that?”

Lydia crossed her arms and casually leaned on the doorframe.

“It seems like you two had a lot of fun together. What he did really was not okay, but I still think he’s a good guy at heart. Just a little misled. And, also, honestly? You and I dated for a while and I think I understand you pretty well. I know you’re stubborn and afraid of getting attached. And part of that’s my fault, I guess... but I think you’ve been missing him. He doesn’t really know how to show it in the right way, but he misses you, too.”

“Yeah, well. Whatever.”

“All I’m saying is think about it. Goodbye, Beck.”

“Bye, Lyd.”

Lydia walked into the nearby bathroom and shut the door behind her.

Her words had frozen Beck in place. Across from her were the stairs to the attic. Following them up with her eyes, she slowly lifted her gaze until it landed on the topmost door. 

Lydia had simultaneously called Beck’s bluff about not liking Beeltejuice and given the relationship her blessing. It felt like a two ton weight had been lifted off her shoulders.  
Unable to deny her curiosity, Beck walked towards the base of the attic stairs and let out a defeated sigh. 

In truth, she’d missed his presence from the start. It wasn’t until finals week, though, that she’d sorely begun to miss the feeling of him in her. Beck was outraged when the paltry hookups and flings she had while he was away did nothing to ease her want. No one else had a tongue like his. No one else could move like him. They all felt nice, but none of them felt as nice.

She’d taken a redhead home from the bar one evening. While they fooled around, the realization cut through Beck’s good mood like a knife. She screamed. Her lover mistook the noise for a particularly intense orgasm. In reality, it was the shock of realization that Beetlejuice had done exactly what said he would.

He’d spoiled her.

Slowly, her gaze drifted down the staircase, back towards her oversized suitcase. Beck felt a blush creep up her neck.

Lydia wasn’t the only person in the house that she’d bought a gift for. 

She tipped the suitcase on its side and unzipped its largest pocket. Careful to make sure no one was around to see it, she pulled out a dildo that was around seven inches in size out from under a pile of shirts. 

Without thinking, Beck clutched the sex toy to her chest and ascended the stairs. She raised her free hand to knock on the door.

Bzzzzz-tt. Bzzzzz-tt.

“Oh, fuck!” she swore under her breath. “My Lyft!”

As reality settled in, Beck sourly realized this was not the time nor the place. Not if she wanted to make her plane. (Not if she wanted to walk normally anytime soon).

Doing her best to keep the floorboards from creaking, Beck tiptoed down the stairs and made a brisk dash to her room. Hastily, she tossed the dildo in her underwear drawer. Briskly walking out of her room, she dropped to her knees to gather up her suitcase again. It was all for nothing, though.

The blonde froze, her grey eyes growing as wide as dinner plates as she heard heavy footsteps up above her and an undeniably familiar voice call out from inside the attic.

“Beck!”

Anxious, she rushed out the front door.

While loading her things into the van that had showed up for her, she felt his eyes boring into the back of her skull every second. Her heart was pounding and her breath was shaky. She knew if she just looked up, he’d be standing there. Still, she was nervous of what she’d see. 

Ghoulish faces? Nightmares beyond human comprehension? Indecent exposure?

Unable to stave off the desire to find out, Beck turned towards the attic window before getting into the cab of the vehicle. Beetlejuice was just standing there. Her heart skipped a beat when he placed a longing hand on the window.

Suddenly, the instinct to suppress her feelings was overwhelming. She gave him a brisk wave before getting in the car.

“How could someone so vile also be so endearing?” Beck pondered all the way to the airport.

⁂

“Are you and dad really going to bed at 9 on New Year’s Eve?” Beck asked incredulously. 

“Midnight is just too late when you get old, honey. And we’ll be starting off our new year on the right foot by waking up early and well rested,” her mom said through a yawn. “Besides, I know you and your sisters have a lot to catch up on.”

“We just like watching shows together, mom. We’ve all been in and out of the house since Christmas Eve. What could we possibly talk about that we haven’t already?”

“What’s there to talk about? I haven’t heard you bring up whoever gave you that hickey in November. Your father nearly had a heart attack when you Facetimed us over Thanksgiving.”

Beck defensively crossed her arms and avoided her mother’s knowing look. Her sisters, who were setting up a DVD player in the next room, audibly snickered.

“Goodnight, ladies!” Mom said in a singsong voice. “Don’t stay up too late. We’re all having brunch with grandma tomorrow.”

“Goodnight,” Beck muttered.

Maeve and Alva said nothing when Beck sheepishly walked into the room, feigning interest in the decade-old DVD player and the pile of junk food next to it. They held their giggles back between thin-lipped smiles. A fit of laughter finally burst out between the three of them, though, when Beck’s sombre expression cracked into a telltale smirk.

“Mom called you out!”

“Oh, shut up, Alva,” Beck said while wrapping a nearby blanket around herself. “At least someone that wants to kiss me.”

“Sounds like you did a little more than kiss, ya floozy,” the youngest countered with a grin.

Beck reached out to lightly slap her on the arm. 

“Hey, be nice! Both of you,” Maeve said.

“Oh, let go of it. We’re just teasing. Right, Alva?” Beck said.

“Right, ya floozy.”

Beck rolled her eyes.

The tradition started around five years prior then Maeve, the oldest Clark sister, got married and moved away. The three would spend an all nighter— dubbed “Sister Sleepover”— binge watching TV, eating snacks and sharing the dirty secrets they didn’t dare mention around their parents. It used to be more frequent than twice a year, but between Maeve’s kids and Beck attending school in Connecticut, it was hard to plan.

Maeve pushed a button on the box TV and it blinked to life, showing the DVD menu for Season 4 of The Golden Girls.

“How’d Remy do with the twins tonight, by the way? It’s been, what, five months since you’ve had a night to yourself?”

“Oh, motherhood is a labor of love,” she said with a resigned sigh. “He did fine, of course. Toddlers are a handful, but they’re both finally asleep. Amelia ate and went down without a problem, but Carson threw a fit. ”

“I always thought he’d be a mama’s boy,” Beck said while grabbing a bag of chips from the snack pile.

“Hey, he’s got good taste.”

Food and blankets in hand, each sister claimed the same parts of the couch they always did. Beck lounged on the right armrest while Maeve claimed the one on the left. Alva sat between the two.

“For your information, Beck, there are people who want to kiss me,” the youngest suddenly blurted.

Beck nearly got whiplash from how quickly she turned to face her younger sister.

“You had your first kiss?” she asked dumbfounded. “With who?”

“Jacob.”

“Jacob Goldman?! You kissed your best friend? When did that happen?!”

“Homecoming.”

Beck craned her neck to look over at Maeve.

“Did you know about this?”

“She told me over lunch the next day.”

“You kissed your best friend at homecoming?!”

“He’s the one that kind of initiated things.”

“Homecoming was back in October! How come Maeve got to know but I didn’t?!”

“Mom and dad don’t even know yet. Chill,” Alva said. “I wanted to wait until Sister Sleepover, but I knew I couldn’t.”

“You still could have called or snapped me! Ugh. Whatever.”

“Jacob and I have been official since Homecoming night. I’m waiting until after my birthday next week to say something to mom and dad,” Alva said. “It’s the only way I could think to get out of that ‘only group dates until you’re 16’ rule.”

“Maybe she didn’t say anything because she thought you’d tattle on her,” Maeve teased.

“Oh, lay off! You should have hid your weed better. Anyway, you picked a good one, Alva. I like Jake.”

“Speaking of boys, Miss Bexley, when are you gonna tell us who gave you that hickey?” the youngest responded.

Beck pressed “play” on the remote and stuffed a handful of chips into her mouth. She was trying to buy herself time, unsure of how to delicately explain her current situation. Neither sister knew about Beetlejuice. She kind of wanted it to stay that way.

“Well?” Maeve persisted immediately.

Fuck.

“I, uh. I have this thing going on with one of Lydia’s friends. It was weird for a little bit, but she’s cool with it now. He’s cool, too, I guess.”

“Just ‘cool’?” Alva asked, quirking an eyebrow.

“Yeah, squirt. Just cool.”

“And?”

Beck rolled her eyes and sighed.

“And he gave me a hickey. What else do you want from me?”

“What’s his name? What’s he like?” Maeve asked.

Alva grabbed her phone.

“Is he on Instagram? I want to see who my big sis is crushing on.”

“I don’t have a crush on him.”

“Oh!” Maeve exclaimed. “So is it like… are you two just, um, ‘talking?’”

Beck rolled her eyes at the delicately worded implication. A 16-year age gap between Maeve and Alva meant the eldest sister perpetually viewed the youngest as something that was innocent that needed protecting. The middle sister knew better. 

Alva had only waited for the right person to kiss. It wasn’t like she didn’t “get” casual affairs. 

“Yeah we’re ‘talking,’” Beck said with exaggerated air quotes. “It’s just weird because it’s… not just ‘talking.’”

“Well, if it’s not like a crush or a hookup, Beck, then what is it?”

“Alva!”

“I know what sex is, Maeve.”

Hah.

“If I had a word for it, I’d tell you, kiddo,” Beck said.

“Can we at least know what he’s like?”

“Um, w-well,” Beck hesitated. “He’s got a thing for suits and green hair. Trust me, it’s weird but it works. Good at cuddling, great to talk to…”

She giggled thinking about the night she saw him on the roof, how he contorted his limbs and freaked her out.

“He’s got a mad dad bod but is still surprisingly flexible—”

“Keep the descriptions PG, Bexley.” Maeve warned.

“Oh, please. Get your mind out of the gutter.”

“What’s this guy’s name, again?” Alva asked.

“Lawrence.”

Saying that out loud made Beck realize that no one else called him that but her. She briefly considered if he actually hated that name.

“Hm. You’re not following anyone like that on Twitter.”

“He’s an old soul. Doesn’t really ‘do’ social media. Anyway, I dunno. I don’t think I’m ready for anything serious. He’s great, but he’s been acting like an asshole lately.”

“Did he ask you out or something?”

“In his own unique way, yeah,” Beck half-laughed. “I got scared. I haven’t really talked to him since.”

“Well, what’s there to be scared of?” Maeve asked.

Beck floundered while trying to think of an excuse that didn’t raise more questions about the situation.

“I’m just not… Well, I just…. He’s…”

“Out with it!”

Beck sighed.

“Just… What if it doesn’t go well? It took me literal months to get over Lydia.”

“Well, you can’t let that hold you back.”

“Yeah,” Alva agreed. “Like, Jake took kind of a risk asking me out but did it anyway. If you like him, you should be honest with your feelings.”

“I’ll think about it,” Beck said dismissively as canned laughter sounded from the TV.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The good news is I published another big ol' chapter. Hooray! The bad news is I don't really have a super clear idea about what I want to do with the plot next. Booooo!
> 
> Always open for suggestions :) @strange-n-unbluusual on Tumblr

**Author's Note:**

> If you like your feed being full of shitposts and the occasional smutty fic, you can find me on Tumblr @strange-n-unbluusual. 18+ only.


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